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The friends that have it I do wrong Whenever I remake a song, Should know what issue is at stake: It is myself that I remake.
William Butler Yeats
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William Butler Yeats
Age: 73 †
Born: 1865
Born: June 13
Died: 1939
Died: January 28
Astrologer
Mystic
Playwright
Poet
Politician
Writer
Scrooby
Nottinghamshire
W. B. Yeats
William Yeats
W.B. Yeats
Crafts
Issue
Whenever
Friendship
Issues
Remake
Friends
Remakes
Wrong
Stake
Song
Stakes
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A passion-driven exultant man sings out Sentences that he has never thought.
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How can the arts overcome the slow dying of men's hearts that we call progress ?
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We are no petty people. We are one of the great stocks of Burke we are the people of Swift, the people of Emmet, the people of Parnell. We have created most of the modern literature of this country. We have created the best of its political intelligence.
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I say that Roger Casement Did what he had to do, He died upon the gallows But that is nothing new.
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It's certain that fine women eat A crazy salad with their meat.
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I believe... that our memories are part of one great memory, the memory of Nature herself.
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To be born woman is to know - although they do not speak of it at school - women must labor to be beautiful.
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We can only begin to live when we conceive life as Tragedy.
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Out-worn heart, in a time out-worn, Come clear of the nets of wrong and right Laugh, heart, again in the grey twilight, Sigh, heart, again in the dew of the morn.
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Longfellow has his popularity, in the main, because he tells his story or his idea so that one needs nothing but his verses to understand it.
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Choose your companions from the best Who draws a bucket with the rest soon topples down the hill.
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When I clamber to the heights of sleep, Or when I grow excited with wine, suddenly I meet your face.
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Style, personality - deliberately adopted and therefore a mask - is the only escape from the hot-faced bargainers and money-changers.
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All the stream that's roaring by Came out of a needle's eye.
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Between extremities Man runs his course A brand, or flaming breath, Comes to destroy All those antinomies Of day and night.
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Why should I seek for love or study it? It is of God and passes human wit I study hatred with great diligence, For that's a passion in my own control, A sort of besom that can clear the soul Of everything that is not mind or sense.
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Surely among a rich man's flowering lawns, Amid the rustle of his planted hills, Life overflows without ambitious pains And rains down life until the basin spills, And mounts more dizzy high the more it rains As though to choose whatever shape it wills.
William Butler Yeats
I heard the old, old, men say 'all that's beautiful drifts away, like the waters.'
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Though leaves are many, the root is one.
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Wine enters through the mouth, Love, the eyes. I raise the glass to my mouth, I look at you, I sigh.
William Butler Yeats